


Play Me a Song

by sneakysquishy



Category: Attack on Titan, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Titans (Shingeki no Kyojin), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Jeanmarco Month 2018, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, jean is a gardener for marcos family, marco is a pretty piano player
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:45:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakysquishy/pseuds/sneakysquishy
Summary: Marco’s always played piano. Jean’s okay at flirting. Marco’s even better at falling in love.





	Play Me a Song

**Author's Note:**

> new fic :-) im trying something new with this one so definitely let me know if you like it and would like to read more

My fingers slid across the keys gracefully. My eyes were closed, trying to feel as close to the music as I possibly could. I could feel myself slowly slipping into that perfect mindset as my nimble fingers danced across the keys to compose a perfect melody. My countless hours of practice had paid off-  
“Marco! Have you been listening to what I’ve been telling you? Your finger placement is all wrong for that part of the piece.”  
My father's voice boomed in my ear, almost instantaneously bringing me out of my tranquility. I visibly cringed when I realized what he had meant—my fingers had slipped to the next key of where they were supposed to be. I let out a defeated sigh and hung my head, eyes opening as I dropped my hands into my lap. “I know, father. I’ll do better next time.” I muttered, finally gathering up enough courage to look up at my father. His brows were furrowed and his arms were crossed with disapproval.  
“You haven’t been practicing.”  
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Even though his statement was completely untrue—I had been practicing every night that week—I took his criticism with a grain of salt and gave a small nod. “Yes, sir. I understand. I will practice more.” I shifted on the piano chair uncomfortably, letting out another defeated sigh. My father walked off without another word, leaving me to wallow in his harsh words.  
I tried to think of a time when my father had been proud of a piece that I played. Nothing came to mind. He was never proud, it was always just a small grunt of approval and that was the most I’d ever get. I was used to it, though. That’s how it had always been between my father and I.  
Starting to clean up my music sheets, I stood up from the stool with another sigh. My face instantly flared up a bright red when I saw another man standing right behind the piano. Had he been listening the entire time?  
“You play really good.”  
It was like I was frozen in place—I had never played in front of anyone but my dad and the occasional music teacher. It felt like all of my emotions were just out on the table for anyone to listen to. My music was how I dealt with my problems, and it always had been. Sometimes I’d write original pieces, and those were the hardest for me to play. I’d get too emotional to finish them most of the time, but they still meant a lot to me. So when this man—who I’d never seen before, mind you— told me that my music was good, I almost fainted. I felt so exposed.  
“I mean, I didn’t hear all of it but from what I did hear, it was pretty damn phenomenal. Where’d you learn to play like that?” He grinned, a hand reaching up to card his fingers through his blond hair.  
After a few moments I was finally able to process what was happening and my feet finally moved from where they were planted on the ground. “Thank you. I, um, have been playing my whole life.” I said nervously, avoiding eye contact as I shuffled my music sheets into an order that I liked. It felt like his eyes were boring into my head, and I absolutely hated it.  
“That’s pretty impressive. How come I’ve never heard you play before?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed into a curious expression.  
I honestly didn’t know what this guy was thinking he’s going to gain from this conversation. Absolutely pointless, in my opinion. “I usually only play when I know nobody is around to listen.” Now that I had said it out loud, it really didn’t make any sense. My father always had some type of house worker around, and most likely they heard me playing. “Um, who are you, if I may ask?”  
“Oh, shit, yeah. I’m Jean. I work for your dad, he hired me to fix the garden in the front.” He said, shrugging as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Now that I was looking at him, he was actually quite handsome. And that name. Was it French? I mulled it over in my head as I spoke.  
“So, like, a landscape artist?” I asked curiously, looking him over. Dirty outfit, ruffled hair… had we always had cute yardworkers? I never really paid any attention.  
“Yeah, that’s a fancier way of saying gardener.” He chuckled, and I honestly think in that moment my heart skipped a beat. What was going on?  
“Anyways, I was wondering if, y’know, maybe you could teach me, like, one song? An easy one, so it won’t take up a lot of your time-”  
“Yes.” I spat out, before he even finished the sentence, I think. I don’t know why. I still had a lot of things to work on when I play, so I don’t know why I thought I could teach someone else. But I already said I would, can’t back out now. Why was a gardener interested in learning to play piano, anyway?  
Jean shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and I noticed the slightest hint of color on his cheeks. “Okay, cool. Thanks.”  
I put my music sheets into a folder, biting my lip as I looked over at him. “I’m, uh, always around so… just let me know when you’re free and we can get started.” I said, offering a small smile. “You know where to find me.”  
“Yeah, I definitely will. Just gotta make sure your dad doesn’t chew me out or something. He’s a real tight ass, I heard how he was talking about your music. I mean, I’m no expert but I thought it was a little harsh.” Jean said, arms crossing with a slight frown.  
“Well, I mean, he just wants me to do good. I understand where he’s coming from,” I shrugged. “But he can be a little much sometimes, yeah.” I muttered cautiously. I never talk about my father like this, but for some reason Jean made me feel… safe. Like I could trust him with my words. Which didn’t make any sense, considering I had just met him not even ten minutes ago. I wasn’t ever this open with anyone, not even my father. But I kind of liked it, weirdly enough. This sense of vulnerability.  
“Agreed. Very specific with his grass and flower types, too.” Jean chuckled, running a hand through his hair once more. “Anyways, I should probably get back to work before you-know-who comes back and beats my ass. See you around.”  
And with that, he was gone.  
I didn’t even know his last name, but I felt… something. I was looking forward to my piano lesson with him, whenever it would be.


End file.
